Eyes Opened
by BstnStrg13
Summary: A short story imagining Karen's actions as she learns that Matt is Daredevil. Takes place after S2 of Daredevil and before S1 of The Defenders


Karen Page sat in her office and stared at the computer. She'd been looking at the damn thing for at least two hours and hadn't typed one word. It didn't make sense. She had pages of notes on a corruption scandal in Hell's Kitchen – information more solid than she'd had for many of her stories. It should have been a slam dunk. The paragraphs should have been pouring out of her. But for some reason, the story wouldn't form in her brain and therefore wasn't ending up on the page. She was blocked.

She put an elbow on the desk and rested her forehead in her hand. If she were honest with herself, she'd have to admit that she really wasn't so much blocked as she was preoccupied with another story – a story that she _wasn't_ writing for the New York Bulletin, even though it was far bigger than the corruption scandal. A story that had been under her nose for more than a year; _literally_ under her nose…and next to her, and drinking with her and even kissing her…and that she had managed to miss in spite of its proximity.

Because Matt was Daredevil.

Matt Murdock: The soft-spoken lawyer, friend and - at one time - almost-boyfriend was a vigilante crime fighter who flung himself off roof-tops, and spun and punched and kicked like a ninja, even though he'd been completely blind since the age of nine.

How the fuck had she missed that?

Karen had always been realistic about her abilities. She wasn't cocky, but she didn't sell herself short either. And she knew, absolutely _knew_ that she was a good investigator. Even before the newspaper, even back when she'd worked for Nelson and Murdock, she'd been the person who could follow a trail of breadcrumbs better than anyone. Certainly better than Foggy. And maybe even better than Matt.

So how the hell had she missed these particular breadcrumbs – especially when they were the size of extra large pizzas? Once Matt had told her, she could see immediately that it was true. It all fit; the endless series of "accidents" that left him with nasty cuts and bruises, the disappearing at night, and the information and insight he'd acquired on the criminal element. And if that wasn't evidence enough, there'd been the hand on her cheek the last time Daredevil had rescued her. The other hostages…well, he'd just yelled at them to run; but with her, he'd taken the time to raise his hand and very gently brush his thumb over her cheekbone. She should have recognized Matt's touch then and there; she should have recognized his _scent_. It all added up.

So when he'd stood in their old offices and revealed his identity, pulling Daredevil's mask out of a paper bag as evidence, she hadn't doubted him for a second. Hadn't said: _You're a blind man, Matt – seriously, how could you possibly do the things that Daredevil does?_ Because she'd known he wasn't lying.

Instead, she'd asked the first thing that had popped into her head. "Does Foggy know?"

A shadow had passed over Matt's face. "Yes, he knows. He found out a few weeks before we took down Fisk."

That had been over a year ago. She'd immediately felt the sting of being left out. Matt had confessed to Foggy but not her, and evidently the two of them had then conspired to _keep_ it from her. Sure, Foggy had known Matt since law school, but the three of them were family – or at least they had been before things fell apart. Not to mention the fact that she and Matt had been in the early stages of what might have become love, if they'd had the chance. She should have been included.

"Why didn't you tell _me_?" she'd asked Matt, although maybe what she'd really meant was: _Why are_ _you telling me now_? _Why, now that Nelson and Murdock is dead and we aren't a family anymore?_

He'd stared at her for a long moment. Okay, Karen conceded, not really _at_ her, since Matt couldn't see, but in her general direction. And since the man had always been able to sense her moods and hear every nuance in her voice, she'd suspected that he was following her reactions as well as if he could see her face.

"I didn't tell you for a lot of reasons," he'd finally said.

"Such as?"

"Such as it would put you in danger. There's nurse who sometimes treats my injuries. She knows who I am and she was tortured and nearly killed when the Russians were looking for me. I didn't want to risk the same thing happening to you."

" _She?_ " Karen had felt another sting – jealousy this time, instead of hurt. There was another woman who knew Matt was Daredevil?

Matt had nodded, and hadn't offered any further explanation.

"What are the other reasons you didn't tell me?" she'd asked.

"I didn't want you to worry about me."

She'd frowned. "That one's bogus," she'd said. "You knew I worried about you anyway. You'll have to do better than that."

She'd noticed that she'd said _worried_ in the past tense, as if their relationship was behind them and she wasn't going to worry any longer. She'd wondered if he'd noticed it too. She'd wondered if it were true.

Matt had shrugged. "I didn't want to destroy our friendship." He'd smiled a sad smile. "You can see what it did to Foggy and me."

She hadn't been able to argue with that one. Foggy had disbanded Nelson and Murdock and joined another law firm. She doubted that he and Matt spoke at all these days. It couldn't have been a good day for either one of them when Foggy had found out.

There'd been a lengthy silence that had filled the room the way the scent of cooking fills a kitchen. No one else could do silence quite like Matt, she'd thought.

And then, at last he'd whispered, "And I was afraid you'd tell me to stop." His eyes, those unseeing and yet all-seeing eyes, were cast downward. He'd looked embarrassed.

"That's the real reason, isn't it?" she'd asked. "The rest of it is just noise."

Another silence. Then, "Yes."

"Did Foggy tell you to stop?"

"He asked me."

"And are you going to?"

He'd sighed. "I don't know…I think I'd like to try." He'd made it sound as though Foggy had asked for a huge sacrifice, like giving up drinking or sex instead of no longer getting punched or shot at. Karen had sensed Matt's conflict from yards away. He'd run his thumb over the Daredevil mask as if it were the face of a friend.

And that had pretty much been the end of their discussion. She hadn't known what else to say. Either she was going to ask a million questions - how did he learn to fight, was he ever afraid, did he have other secret skills - or she was going to ask none. And she'd opted for none. She hadn't been sure she could spend a couple of hours listening to Matt explain without either breaking down or slapping him.

And so, after another heavy silence, he'd left. He'd put the mask back in the paper bag, opened up his walking cane and then stepped out the door, the cane tap-tap-tapping as he moved down the hallway. She'd almost laughed as she'd watched him. He always looked so damn vulnerable with that cane. The disabled man determined to be independent in the rough world of Hell's Kitchen. He looked thin and cerebral, and not at all like a superhero.

And the biggest irony, Karen thought, coming back to the present and lifting her head out of her hand, was that even though she now knew he could take out a dozen people with his fists and feet alone, she _still_ thought of him as vulnerable. She pictured him going home to an empty, dark apartment with his cuts and bruises and her heart ached. Go figure.

She gave her computer screen one last, disgusted stare and then reached over to turn the thing off. She may as well face the fact that nothing was going to get written today, she decided. It was six pm anyway; the time most normal people were getting off work and heading home to their families. The fact that she stayed in her office many nights until midnight was sad more than laudable. It meant that she didn't have family or enough friends. It meant she didn't have any place else to go.

There was one friend, though, who she could talk to about all of this. She suspected he might still be at work, too. She picked up her phone.

Foggy answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Karen," he said.

His voice was boisterously cheerful and she could hear music in the background. Clearly, she'd been wrong about Foggy still being at work. He was at a bar, probably with colleagues from his new law firm, having a good time. The words she had been about to say died in her throat.

"Karen?"

She stammered, "I was just calling to see if you were still at work and wanted to stop for a drink, but it sounds like you've already done that. Maybe we can do it some other time."

There was an awkward pause. She started to say, "I'll call you-" but Foggy interrupted.

"Karen, what's wrong?"

His voice had sobered and the music in the background was receding. Foggy must be moving away from the party. She wanted to say; _nothing, nothing's wrong_ – but she couldn't. She didn't have the energy for the lie.

"I talked to Matt a couple of days ago," she whispered. "He told me…um…he told me about…"

Foggy saved her from having to say the words. "I'll meet you at Josie's in thirty minutes," he said quickly. "We can talk about it there." And then he disconnected.

* * *

Josie's hadn't changed at all. It was months since Karen had been there and she was pretty certain many of the asses hadn't moved out of their barstools since her last visit. The three seats that she, Foggy and Matt used to occupy at the end of the bar were empty. She wondered if that was coincidence or if those seats had been waiting all this time for a Nelson/Murdock/Page reunion.

She sat in one of them, gave Josie a nod, and then ordered a whiskey. She was on her second, throat-burning swallow when Foggy showed up.

He grinned. "I see the clientele at Josie's hasn't changed. I thought it might have gotten more upscale after we left."

His grin, like the joke, felt forced and Karen couldn't muster a smile in return. Foggy studied her face for a few seconds, then slid onto the stool next to her and called out to Josie, "A glass, and the bottle of whatever Karen's drinking." Josie silently slid the bottle and a glass down the bar.

Foggy filled his glass about a quarter full and downed it in one gulp. "So," he began, turning to face Karen. "Matt told you."

She nodded.

"Just to make sure we're on the same page here," he continued, "Matt told you about what he does - or at least used to do – in the evenings. He told you about the…suit and…"

"He showed me the mask, Foggy."

Foggy refilled his glass. "Yup - we're on the same page." He chuckled. "No pun intended." Then he frowned. "Did he say _why_ he was telling you? I mean, why now? It's not like we're working together anymore."

Karen shook her head. "He didn't say. Why did he tell _you_ when he did?"

Foggy shrugged. "He didn't really tell me, at least not by choice. I found out. I went to his apartment and heard some scary noises. I broke in and found him half dead on the floor. One of Fisk's guys had beaten him up pretty good."

Karen searched her memory. "Is that when you gave me the bullshit story about Matt being hit by a car?"

Foggy nodded.

She sighed. "Why didn't the two of you just tell me then?" she asked. "I knew you both were lying. I thought we trusted each other. Why keep it from me?"

Foggy studied his drink and didn't meet her eyes. "Matt asked me not to tell you." He hesitated, then added, "I suppose I could have tried talking him into it, but to be honest, I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time. I was mad and I was hurt - and I kind of snapped. I couldn't believe my best friend had hidden something that big from me for so long."

"Is that why the two of you stopped talking for a few days?"

Foggy nodded again.

Karen swirled the whiskey left in her glass and then drained it in one swallow. "And are you still mad?" she asked. "Is that why you broke apart Nelson and Murdock?"

Foggy reached for the whiskey bottle, refilled her glass and topped off his own. "I broke up the firm," he said, "because I wasn't sure how committed Matt is to the law." When she narrowed her eyes and said nothing, he continued, "Seriously, he's a fucking lawyer. How can he say he believes in the rule of law and then go out and beat people up to make them follow it?"

"Criminals," Karen clarified. "He beats up criminals, not people. And sometimes the law can't get the job done. Look at Fisk. He had half the police department and the courts in his pocket."

Foggy shook his head. "Who gets to decide who's a criminal and who's a person? Matt? He's a smart guy, but he's not infallible. I'm not sure I'm ready for him to be judge and jury, never mind executioner."

Karen felt a small shiver run down her spine. "Did Matt ever execute anyone? I don't recall any instances where Daredevil deliberately killed."

 _And if he did_ , she thought, _I_ _have no right to take the moral high ground_. _Not when I pumped seven bullets into James Wesley. One bullet or maybe even two is self-defense. Seven bullets is just rage._

She decided to change the subject. "Did Matt explain how he's able to…do the things he does? I mean, he really is blind, right?"

Foggy gave her a weak smile. "He said his other senses were heightened when he lost his sight. I'm not sure I understand it, but suffice it to say that you want to pay close attention to personal hygiene around Matt. He'll know the last time you showered and brushed your teeth."

Karen laughed, but sobered quickly when she saw that Foggy wasn't joking.

"And he can hear heartbeats," Foggy continued. "It's how he knows when people are lying – he listens to their heart speed up. He can hear it from across the room."

Karen thought about the times she and Matt had kissed. Her heart must have sounded like a jackhammer to him.

They fell silent for a few moments. She glanced over at the third, empty seat. It felt wrong.

"What about you?" Foggy asked abruptly. "Are you angry with him?"

Good question. Karen thought about her reaction when Matt had told her. It had been shock, mainly; shock at what Matt had been doing and shock at her blindness in missing it. Since then…well, she wasn't really sure.

"I don't think I'm angry," she said honestly. "Mostly, I think I'm just hurt. I thought the three of us were closer than that." She was including Foggy in her hurt. Foggy had kept the secret, too.

Foggy gave a dry chuckle. "When I first found out, I yelled at Matt for keeping it from me. He told me everyone has secrets. I told him I didn't have any but I wanted one. In a weird way, I guess I have my wish now. It's not like I can talk about this with anyone - except you."

"Well, at least we can talk to each other."

He nodded. "That's a good thing."

"Yes. That's a good thing."

Karen took another swallow of whiskey and noticed her glass was once again empty. When had she become such a drinker? Before New York, she'd been a teetotaler - a couple of beers or glasses of wine at the most. Now she craved the hard stuff. It was another remnant of being one third of Nelson/Murdock/Page. If Matt was keeping the same drinking habits, maybe his liver would kill him before the criminals had the chance.

She finally said the thing that was really on her mind; the thing that had been on her mind ever since Matt had told her. Because she'd figured out pretty quickly that _worried_ wasn't a word she could use in the past tense.

"Don't you worry about him?" she asked Foggy. "He could get killed. He's probably been close to it a number of times."

Foggy rolled his eyes and sighed. "Now we're getting to it," he said. "The Matt Murdock Magic. Women just can't help wanting to nurture him. They see a good-looking blind man and they flock to him like seagulls to…to garbage. They want to take care of him." He lifted his head and studied her. "And apparently you're no different, Karen, even now that you know what he can do."

She didn't confirm or deny it. Instead she said, "I thought you told me Matt always gets the _hot_ women."

"He does – he gets the hot _and_ nurturing women."

She laughed. "Has it ever occurred to you that Matt is pretty hot? Maybe _that's_ why women flock to him."

Foggy dismissed it. "I'm pretty hot, too, and they don't flock to me." When she raised one eyebrow, he added, "I'm going to pretend that I didn't see that smirk just now."

Karen sighed and her smile faded. "Well, I'm sorry, Foggy, if I'm another victim of the Murdock Magic, but I can't help worrying."

He nodded much more soberly. "I know," he conceded. "The same here."

He refilled both their glasses.

"Maybe he'll give it up," he said more brightly. "I don't think he's gone out recently. I haven't heard of any Daredevil sightings in the last few weeks. Have you?"

She shook her head.

"Well, that's something."

"Yes," she agreed. "That's something." She recalled the way Matt had almost lovingly held Daredevil's mask and wondered how long he would abstain.

She glanced once more at the third, empty seat at the bar. It still felt wrong. Matt should be in it. Even if there wasn't a Nelson and Murdock anymore, Matt should be in it. Even if he was running around the city with horns on his head beating up criminals, Matt should be here. The bond the three of them shared was supposed to be stronger - stronger than where they worked and stronger than their individual screw-ups and hang-ups.

She made a decision.

She pushed what was left of her whiskey away and reached for her purse.

"Are you leaving?" Foggy asked.

She nodded. "I think so – it's getting late. Thank you for coming out to talk to me, Foggy. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Anytime. Has it helped? Do you know what you're going to do…about Matt?"

She sighed. "Not really. I'm pretty sure that what I'm _not_ going to do, though, is cut him out of my life completely."

"You can't approve of what he's doing."

She frowned. "Of what he _did_ , remember? You said yourself that Daredevil hasn't been seen in weeks."

Foggy looked skeptical. "Maybe. But he likes it, you know. He had a lot of fine words about justice and standing up for people when he talked to me, but in the end, he likes hitting."

She thought about the way Matt had touched her cheek. He had been tender - infinitely gentle. "I suppose he does," she said. "But there's also another side to him. And if we cut him off completely, then he has nothing to _be_ except the man who likes hitting. I think I could help him find balance. I think _we_ could help him find balance, if you wanted to give him a chance."

Foggy stared at her. He didn't look convinced.

"Anyway," Karen continued, "I'm off. I'll talk to you soon, Foggy."

* * *

She was in her office a few weeks later when her editor poked his head in the door and mentioned that the jury was expected to reach a verdict in a large liability case that Matt was trying. Matt had sued a major construction company on behalf of a boy for damages resulting from exposure to hazardous materials. The case was big news in New York City and was even getting some attention outside of New York.

"You know Murdock, right?" her editor asked. "You used to work with him?"

Karen nodded.

"I know this lawsuit hasn't been your story, but would you mind going to the courthouse and trying to get a statement from him? Maybe he'll give you something more than he'd give to another reporter."

Karen hesitated. Other than Matt's confession in Nelson and Murdock's old offices, she hadn't spoken with him in months. It was going to be awkward, to say the least.

Then she remembered her conversation with Foggy, and her resolution not to cut Matt out of her life entirely.

"Okay," she said.

By the time she arrived at the courthouse, the jury had announced its verdict. Matt had won eleven million dollars for his client. It was considered a significant victory and the hall was packed with reporters anxious to talk to the family and their attorney.

Matt's back was toward her as she approached, but of course he knew it was her. He turned.

"Congratulations, Mr. Murdock," she said.

And then she asked him to lunch.

It was a start.


End file.
